


Peter's Little Princess

by orphan_account



Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Barebacking, Dirty Talk, Feminization, M/M, cross dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:25:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1744565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter just wants to be the Aladdin to Harry's Jasmine.</p><p>(Otherwise known as my thinly veiled excuse for writing kinky Parksborn smut.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peter's Little Princess

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](http://fluffylaces.tumblr.com/post/87050318346/peter-parker-sometimes-calls-harry-osborn) and [this](http://fluffylaces.tumblr.com/post/87052837816/yes-and-peter-treats-him-like-a-princess-in-bed).
> 
> [This](http://mads--hatter.tumblr.com/post/87169622517) is the baby doll nightie Peter buys for Harry in the fic. All mistakes are my own -- enjoy.

The first time Peter calls Harry princess is when they’re watching some cheesy reality show late at night.

“Ready to turn in, princess?”

Harry, who’d been half asleep, mumbles his protest.

“Shut up, Pete,” he glares daggers at his boyfriend despite his drowsiness.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Peter laughs. He clicks off the TV and scoops Harry up bridal style, carrying him up the stairs to their shared bedroom.

Harry doesn’t give the pet name a second thought until he notices Peter calling him, “princess”, every so often now – when they’re arguing just to spite him or even when they’re out in public.

The word starts slipping in to Peter’s speech so much that one day, Harry snaps.

“Stop calling me that!” he growls, throwing Peter a dirty look.

Peter raises his eyebrows, genuinely surprised by Harry’s anger.

“What? Princess?” he asks, cocking his head to the side like a confused puppy.

“Yes,” Harry hisses, “It’s annoying. Why do you do that, anyways?”

Peter gives a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t know; I guess you sort of always reminded me of a respected princess – rich and high born, and I’m sort of like your street rat boyfriend who was lucky enough to have his love reciprocated.”

Harry rolls his eyes at Peter’s sentiment – he appreciates the thought, but this isn’t Disney. Peter’s not Aladdin and Harry hasn’t got the hips to be Jasmine.

“Is that all?” he asks, unimpressed.

Peter gives him a withering look.

“Sometimes I wanna take care of you, too,” Peter sighs, scratching the back of his head, reluctant to admit the truth, “You always seem so stressed out; I just wanna be able to pamper you like a princess, to make your worries go away, if only for a little while.”

To his surprise, Harry feels a pang of longing shoot through him. Maybe … maybe he wants that, too.

But like hell he’d ever admit it.

Harry shakes his head dismissively and leaves Peter, the words of his boyfriend still echoing in his head.

A few days later, a suspicious package is tucked in his underwear drawer. He opens it up slowly and doesn’t know whether to kiss Peter in appreciation or smack him over the head.

He holds a baby doll nightie in his size, obviously meant for a woman. It’s soft and pink, its straps lacy and delicate. To accompany it is a pair of simple, pink panties. Best (or worst) of all is the tiara that had been placed neatly at the bottom. It’s silver and delicate with glittering white gems that can’t be real. It’s obviously fake but it’s nice nonetheless.

That night, Harry doesn’t give Peter the satisfaction of a reaction. He can feel the obvious nervousness thrum through his boyfriend but he simply kisses him goodnight and lets him wallow in his own confusion.

Harry keeps the lingerie tucked in the back of his closet, doesn’t really know why he doesn’t just throw it out and get it done with – but it was a gift given to him from Peter and he just can’t find the heart to.

On most days, he completely forgets that he even has it but during the rare moments he has to himself, when he’s not worried about OSCORP or whether or not Peter’s getting the shit kicked out of him by whatever super villain’s sprung up that week, he lets himself indulge.

One night, when he can’t stop thinking about it, he swallows his pride and brings it out. He takes his suit off and slips the lingerie on in its place. As he stands in front of a full-body mirror, he can’t help the blush that stains his cheeks.

Standing in front of him isn’t Harry Osborn, the sole heir and CEO to OSCORP but instead is Peter’s princess. Her baby doll is cute and playful with its lace and translucent fabric and yet at the same time alluring, as if waiting in the dead of night for her lover to come join her in bed.

Harry bites his lip.

Maybe, just maybe …

He’ll try tomorrow night.

* * *

 

“Peter, I’m up here!” Harry yells.

He fidgets nervously on the edge of his large bed, smoothing down the front of the baby doll camisole. He can’t help but start to worry that maybe this was a stupid idea but before he can change his, he hears Peter bounding up the stairs.

Harry takes one last deep breath and waits for the door to open.

“Hey, Harry I was just thinking that– “Peter bursts through the door as he always does, casual confidence and a cocky smile frozen on his lips.

Harry gives his lover a tentative smile, fingering the white, flowy fabric at the end of the camisole. He draws himself inwards, his supple legs crossed and his head tilted downward as if from shyness. He gazes at Peter hopeful, wondering what the other boy is thinking.

With every passing second, Harry’s confidence slowly fades. He shifts uncomfortably on the bed, uncrossing his legs.

“ _Don’t_  laugh,” he mumbles.

Peter immediately begins stumbling over his words, as if snapped out of a reverie. “ _Oh_ , oh shit. I just– Harry, you look so–“

“I look  _what_?” Harry hisses in defense. “I look stupid, don’t I?”

He glares at Peter as he reaches up and rips the tiara off his head, throwing it carelessly across the bed.

“Actually,” Peter begins, “I was going to say you look  _amazing._ ” He walks through the door, his gait easy and slow. Harry shifts away as Peter sits down beside him.

“Harry, look at me,” Peter whispers, voice soothing and low. Harry turns his head in reluctance and startles when his lover reaches out to caress his face gently.

“My princess got all dolled up for me today,” Peter says, gazing at Harry with unmistakable adoration. “Isn’t that right?”

Harry bites his lip, searching Peter’s eyes. He slowly nods, not trusting himself to speak.

“But what’s this?” Peter gasps, a playful tone to his words. “The princess is missing her crown!”

He reaches across the bed to grab the discarded tiara. Harry bites his lip as Peter brushes his fringe away from his face and then places the tiara atop his head, its thin, silver band holding it in place.

“ _There_ ,” Peter breathes, taking Harry’s face gently in his hands. “You look so pretty now.”

Harry can’t help smiling at Peter’s tender words. “I do?” he asks in a small voice.

Peter’s face lights up as he sees Harry slowly start to come to.

“Mhm.”

His hands begin to wander down, brushing across the soft fabric of the baby doll nightie, going farther down to caress Harry’s thighs.

Harry whimpers at the contact, one of his hands reaching out to claw at Peter’s sweater.

“You even shaved.” There is awe in Peter’s words, even reverence. “Did you shave  _everywhere_?”

Swallowing thickly, Harry nods and lifts the nightie with his slim fingers, exposing the pastel panties he’s donned. His cock makes an obvious outline in the fabric, the pink tip of it just barely peeking through the elastic waistband.

“Hm,” Peter makes a sound he can’t entirely help, reverberating deep in his throat. He reaches out and gently rubs Harry’s cockhead with the pad of his pointer finger, smirking when his little princess mewls and gives him a heated look.

“Why don’t we,” Peter slowly pushes Harry back on the bed, “take these panties off? They’re so pretty – we wouldn’t want to ruin them, would we?”

Harry shakes his head, can feel the tiara jostle slightly with the movement.

In only a few seconds, Peter slips the panties off Harry’s legs and carefully places them on the nightstand, knowing he’ll want to use them later on. Hell, he may just buy more.

When he reverts his gaze back to Harry, he’s met with clear, blue eyes, the color of calm ocean waves after a storm. Harry looks so … innocent. His face’s worry lines from stress and work have been smoothed out and without them, he looks so young, the way he should. Harry stares at Peter, his eyes half-mast and his cheeks stained an adorable, rosy pink.

Peter licks his lips – he’s not entirely sure how much of this is acting anymore.

“C’mon, princess, legs up. I wanna see that pretty pussy of yours,” he says, making Harry blush even harder. Regardless, Harry does as he’s told and brings his legs up to his chest, his hands hooked underneath his knees, on full display for his lover.

Peter’s mouth practically salivates at the sight of the furled, pink hole – completely smooth and practically begging to be licked.

“Aw, baby, you did so well,” Peter praises. One hand in the silk comforter, the other on his princess’ plump ass, Peter bends down to lick at the pussy presented to him.

Peter continues to eat Harry out with teasing, kittenish licks and open-mouthed kisses. He revels in the high-pitched whines and the quiet whimpers, the way Harry’s body trembles underneath his touch.

With reluctance, Peter pulls away. Harry’s pussy glistens with slick and it clenches hungrily, as if beckoning him back to it.

“P-peter,” Harry breathes, looking utterly wrecked. His baby doll is rucked up to his chest, exposing his drooling cock and his hair disheveled, his tiara falling to one side.

“What do you want, princess?” Peter trails sweet kisses on Harry’s torso, licking away the salty pre-cum.

Harry whines, reaches out and threads his fingers through Peter’s hair.

“Want you,” is all he mumbles, making Peter pause.

“You have to be more specific than that, baby,” he replies, his attention now on one of Harry’s pink, little rosebud nipples, suckling on it.

“Want you to fuck me,” Harry’s breath hitches, can feel his cock dripping even more.

“Fuck you where?”

Harry’s patience is wearing thin, his nerves frazzled and his body feels empty, aching to be stretched and filled.

“Want your cock,” he begs at last, “Want you to fuck my pussy, I wanna feel your cock so bad. Peter,  _please_ ,” Harry continues to beg, to plead, all sense of self-preservation gone.

Peter bites down softly on the nipple in his mouth and then soothes it with a tender kiss.

“Okay, baby. Shh, I know, I know.” Peter reaches over to the nightstand, fishing for the bottle of lube Harry always keeps there. Once it’s in his hand, he drizzles a generous amount of it on his fingers.

He sinks two into Harry’s pussy at once, waits a moment for his princess to adjust to the feeling before moving. He pulls his fingers out and then back in, scissoring them every other thrust in order to stretch the other boy. Harry begins to pant, writhing back on the fingers inside him, wanting more.

Peter’s eyes flicker to Harry’s face, studying the other boy’s expression as he gently curls his fingers, easily finding Harry’s sweet spot. Harry’s eyes go wide, his mouth slack and his toes curl. Peter does it again and again, his eyes not once leaving Harry’s face, committing each and every detail to memory – the way Harry’s sky blue eyes go misty and unfocused, his little nightie rising and falling with every gasping breath, the way he murmurs to Peter, too out of his mind to form coherent words but adamant for more.

Peter’s so caught up in the image Harry creates that he doesn’t realize he’s pushing Harry right to the edge, adding another finger simply out of habit. Harry whines louder, whimpering as he claws at the bed spread, legs going weak as he comes, the pleasure unfurling from his lower tummy and cresting, spreading to every part of his body.

Peter’s never seen anything more beautiful.

He slowly withdraws his fingers and crawls up on the bed. Peter cradles Harry’s head in his hands, planting soft kisses all over his face as he lays there in post-orgasm bliss.

“You’re such a good girl, coming from just my fingers,” he coos, nipping at Harry’s lips.

Harry leans up on his elbows, his hand shaking as he reaches out and pulls Peter into a sloppy kiss, his brains still foggy from orgasm. He tries to articulate what he wants, how much he needs to feel Peter inside him but the words he wants are lost on his tongue and instead, all he can do is form these broken, little keening whimpers. He’s practically like a kitten, pliant and soft, unable to communicate what he wants but Peter seems to know anyways.

Peter pulls away after one last kiss and before long, his clothes are off, thrown carelessly on the ground. His body is lithe – he isn’t an imposing hulk with intimidating muscles, rather he’s built just enough with wiry muscle, made to cut through air and swing across the sky. He watches all the while Peter squeezes more lube into his hand, slicking his cock.

Harry knows what to do without even being told, settling himself onto his side. He feels Peter come close, his chest pressing against his back, the thin material of the baby doll the only thing separating them. A firm hand goes to the back of his thigh, lifting his leg easily.

Harry feels so open for Peter, closes his eyes and relishes the way Peter’s breath ghosts across the back of his neck as he slowly pushes in. His pussy is pliant and soft, relaxed and ready to be filled. Peter’s hips are controlled, his movement slow.

It seems to take forever until Peter finally bottoms out, but when he does, it’s with a soft groan that makes Harry smile. He wants his lover to feel good, he likes knowing that he can reduce Peter to a shivering mess and further proves his point by canting back his hips, grinding back on the cock inside him.

“Peter,” he says, voice breathy and high, “Peter,  _Peter_. Move.”

A calloused hand finds its way to his creamy thigh, holding his leg up. Peter pumps his hips slowly, his rhythm steady and unwavering. Harry lets his head fall back into the crook of Peter’s neck, moving in tandem to the pace Peter’s set, moaning at the feeling of being so filled, so thoroughly claimed.

“Faster,” he demands, impatient and needy, his hand reaching behind to clutch at Peter’s thigh.

A simple “no” is the answer he receives.

“Peter, I want faster,” he whines. He hears Peter chuckle behind him and pouts, the pace still slow and leisurely.

“We’re gonna take this slow, princess,” Peter whispers in his ear, the next thrust dragging across Harry’s prostate, making him whimper, “Gonna take this nice and slow so I can take care of you, until you’re writhing on my cock and begging me to come.”

And just like that, Harry’s gone. He gives up trying, even just a little. For this one night, he’s not in charge. He doesn’t have to worry about being heir to a multi-billion dollar corporation because in this moment, he’s Peters’.

He takes everything Peter gives him, his body pliant and bones gone soft. He lets himself be pushed and pulled, Peter’s glacier pace dragging along his insides, hyper aware of every inch of his lover’s cock. It’s maddening and beautiful and everything Harry never knew he wanted.

Faintly, he realizes Peter’s whispering into his ear. “You’re such a good girl,” he hears through the fog of lust, “My little princess.”

He basks in the praise Peter showers him in, his mind completely gone. It’s only when Peter stops thrusting that any semblance of his sanity returns,

“Pete?” he slurs as the other boy turns him over onto his back before pushing back in.

“Yeah, babe?” Peter replies, working a slightly faster pace this time.  He grinds into Harry’s pussy easily, Harry’s legs wrapping around his waist as he fucks in deeper.

“Why did you –“ Harry moans as Peter’s thrusts begin to shorten, pounding continuously into his prostate.

Peter seems to get it though, understands him better than he understands himself.

“I wanted to see your face, princess,” Peter smiles and smoothes away Harry’s bangs. “I wanna see the pretty expression you make when you come.”

A hand snakes its way between them and Peter takes a hold of Harry’s neglected length. He starts to pump it slowly in time with his thrusts.

“You like it when I touch your little clit?” Peter licks his lips, drinking in every little sound Harry makes.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes, wrapping his arms around Peter’s neck and pulling him into a kiss. His head swims from how good he feels; he doesn’t exactly know whether or not he wants to grind back on Peter’s cock or arch into his hand – all he knows is that he’s close,  _so close._

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Peter murmurs, pumping Harry even faster and grinding relentlessly into his sweet spot.

And just like that, Harry comes with a strangled shout, clinging to Peter and back arching off the bed. This time, his orgasm is like a tidal wave, crashing through his body, ripping the air from his lungs and making him see stars. He paints the space between them white with his cum, a little even staining his nightie.

Peter groans as he feels Harry’s pussy clench around him. It’s all too much and he thrusts in one last time and lets Harry’s cunt milk him for all he’s worth. He shakes with the intensity of it as he rides out his orgasm, collapsing atop his lover, burying his face into the crook of Harry’s neck.

He feels fingers thread through his disheveled hair and he smiles. He plants little kisses along Harry’s jawline, one hand slipping under Harry’s nightie to play with his nipples.

“Pete,” Harry groans, squirming under him, “You’re  _heavy_.”

“Am  _not_ ,” Peter whines, smothering his boyfriend even more.

Somehow Harry manages to elbow him in the gut, making Peter move back somewhat although not entirely deterred.

“My little princess seems grumpy,” he smirks playfully, earning another shove. “Maybe she wants me to play with her pussy a little more until she feels better.”

“Peter,  _I swear to god._ ” Peter knows Harry being so sweet and submissive for him was probably a onetime deal, but he can’t help but try to milk it a little longer.

“I didn’t hear a ‘no’,” he says, fingers drifting down to Harry’s loose hole and playing with the rim, silently loving the fact that he can feel a small amount of his cum mixed with lube drip out.

“You’re such an ass,” Harry mumbles. 

Peter laughs at hearing the resignation in Harry’s voice.

“Love you too, princess.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my [tumblr](http://mads--hatter.tumblr.com/), but an anon wanted to be able to access it on ao3 as well. I'm fairly new to the ship so please forgive any ooc. And as always, feedback is always appreciated.♥


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